


Starfish

by bunnyangel



Category: 9-1-1 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Best Friends, Feelings Realization, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, Insecurity, M/M, POV Evan "Buck" Buckley, Pining, Post 3x12 Fools, Selfish Eddie, Selfless Buck
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-27
Updated: 2020-03-27
Packaged: 2021-03-01 02:01:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,546
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23337295
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bunnyangel/pseuds/bunnyangel
Summary: He's probably overreacting, but this woman is here and she shouldn't be and he--He's always known they didn't belong to him.
Relationships: Evan "Buck" Buckley/Eddie Diaz (9-1-1 TV)
Comments: 28
Kudos: 869





	Starfish

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into 中文-普通话 國語 available: [Starfish [Chinese translation] 已授权翻译](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25750180) by [trosa](https://archiveofourown.org/users/trosa/pseuds/trosa)



> On a whim, for @gigi-raven.   
> Thanks, as always, for the beta [nilshki](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nilshki).
> 
> [Русский](https://ficbook.net/readfic/9207134) translation by [t_vinn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/t_vinn).  
> [ 中文](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25750180) translation by [trosa](https://archiveofourown.org/users/trosa/pseuds/trosa).

It starts like this.

There's an excited bounce in his step he can't quite contain as his keys jangle against Eddie's door.

He's dying to tell Chris about the gecko incident because it's hilarious and he'd take that zoo call over all the other calls today.

"Hey Diazes! What's--up…?"

There's a moment where the world kind of stops, except for an instant drop in his stomach. Eddie and Christopher and...he doesn't even know her name but she's a _vision_ of large doe eyes and long wavy hair. She looks uncomfortably _right_ , like she _belongs_ there laughing between Eddie and Chris.

"W-whoa, uh, h-hey…." He suddenly, viscerally, doesn't want to be here. For the first time in forever, he feels like an outsider looking into Eddie's house--a fish out of water that leaves him short of breath. He ignores the word _home_ floating in his head and the well of possessive indignation that rises with it.

"Buck! Hi Buck!"

"Uh--hi!" He drops to one knee, gratefully focusing on the ball of sunshine coming towards him and not the adults following behind.

"Sorry man, I didn't know you had company," he says somewhere towards the vicinity of adult midriffs.

"Uh---it's not--Ana this is Buck--uh--Evan Buckley. Buck this is Ana Flores...Ms. Flores--Christopher's English teacher...." And _oh_. Eddie's _nervous_. The realization hits like a sledgehammer and his chest aches with how hard his heart thumps in its cage. Because Eddie _never_ gets nervous, under _any circumstance_ and this woman--this _gorgeous woman_ \--is making him stutter.

The air is strange, and he knows it's his fault for showing up unannounced and interrupting _whatever_ this is. His brain still feels like it's lacking enough oxygen to function properly and he resolutely focuses on the bundle of joy in his arms, folding the kid _, his kid_ , into a hug. If it's a little tighter than normal, Christopher doesn't do anything but squeeze back. It does nothing to ease the pervading, _irrational_ sense of loss.

"How are you, Buck?"

"I'm good, buddy. How was your day? Are you in trouble? Is that why your teacher is here?" He forces a smile. He's trying. He is. It's not fair to fling all his feelings everywhere here. He's probably overreacting, but this woman is here and she shouldn't be and he--

He's always known they didn't belong to him.

Christopher laughs. "No! Ms. Flores is just visiting."

He just didn't think he would lose them so soon.

"Oh _is she_? Visiting you or your dad?" His mouth feels detached, a living thing not at all controlled by brain function, because his brain hasn't quite moved past the image of the three of them together. Of _her_ , with _his_ family.

The jibe is met with awkward laughter and a protest from Eddie.

Christopher's forehead wrinkles. "Visiting dad, I think." He leans forward. "I think she likes him," he stage whispers.

Buck laughs, but it's a wasted thing, dying somewhere in the back of his throat.

He steels himself and looks up.

"Is that so?" His lips stretch wider, gaze traveling between the two of them, who are exchanging awkward, blushing glances.

"Well, I--," Ana says. "That's not--," Eddie says at the same time.

They both stop and flush even darker.

Jaw clenching, he looks back down at guileless gray eyes and presses that smile back into existence.

"Well then, how about you and me go spend time together and leave them to it?" He laughs as Christopher's cheer melts some of the weight in his chest. He hugs the warm little body close to him again as he rises, a shield between him and Eddie and Ana.

"It’s really nice to meet you, Ms. Flores," he says, eyes sliding past her to shoot Eddie a leer. It's returned with a patented Eddie glare.

He turns his back on him, on them, because he can't breathe when he looks at them and he's got Chris...for now.

It doesn't ease the storm brewing in his thoughts that stays with him for the uncharacteristically short visit.

The gecko story is a success, sending Christopher into peals of laughter, but that's the bright spot of an otherwise grey visit. He honestly doesn't know what happened after or how he got out of there.

The teacher--Ana--is gone rather fast. He knows that. But Eddie never joins them, and he doesn't ask him to stay.

He recognizes the storm brewing behind Eddie's eyes, too.

The beer in his hand is warm. The dark sky outside holds no answers to questions he's definitely not asking.

He already knows how this is going to end.

*****

It escalates like this.

Buck is on his way into the locker room, and Eddie is on his way out.

Neither man gives way when they meet in the doorway.

He tries on a smile. It fits badly, like a t-shirt stretched too thin. "How was your play date, Eddie?"

And Eddie's expression is far from sunny this morning. "What even the hell was that, Buck? It was uncalled for. She's his teacher!"

His smile droops. "There's no rule against dating your kid's hot teacher, you know."

He doesn't know why he does these things.

It's a lie. He knows exactly why.

Eddie flushes, but his expression grows even darker.

"She's _his damn teacher_ , Buck." Eddie shakes his head and shoves his way past.

He stares at the ground.

It's not a denial.

And it's not like he's imagining things. Not like Eddie hadn't already confessed he found her attractive and acted like a fool their very first meeting.

Not like she hadn't somehow already started invading, laying claim to places that were previously his.

Not like Chris doesn't also already love her, like he loves all his teachers.

And he knows he's bad at this. He always clings, like a barnacle, like a starfish that forces itself to regrow its arms even if it's been cut off so many times, because it can't afford not to.

Because no one holds on to it.

It's pathetic, but he knows. He clings and he clings and it's not ever enough. His mother's hand. His father's love. This is how it goes and he should gently take the threads of his life that he had so lovingly entangled with them and start to cut them one by one.

He still dreams, sometimes, of the rush and the roar, the disorientating spin and the small body that slips through his arms every single time.

But he dreams, _always_ , of soulful brown eyes and sensuous lips, of corded muscles and calloused hands. He dreams, _always_ , of sunshine and laughter and mischievous gray eyes.

Maybe he should just enjoy it while it lasts. Right? Just because he knows where this is going to end, doesn't mean he should push to the conclusion any faster.

She's already here in their lives. It shouldn't be long, now.

He's survived it before. He can do it again.

Right?

He laughs, because he honestly, truly might not.

The shift is a normal one; A testament to a team and a partnership that remains steadfast when saving lives.

But when it's over, before Eddie can give him a choice, or choose for him, he goes home.

He keeps going home.

The door to his apartment opens with a bang, but Buck is a little bit past drunk to care.

"Heey, Eddie," he slurs, head rolling against the back of his very comfortable couch. He flinches as the light goes on, eyes slamming shut with groan.

"Are you--are you seriously drunk? We have shift in less than six hours!"

"Wha'sa matter, Eddie? You sound mad," he mutters, exhaustion settling into his bones. A very loud, very large part of him is furiously pleased that Eddie's here. It sits up and squirms and begs for attention. The other part, smothered beneath the haze of three too many beers, cringes away and wants him to go--needs him to go, because he's a disaster and he doesn't know if he can help but be messy with his feelings all over the place.

"What's the matter?! You--"

The words fade beneath the sea of swirling colors behind his eyelids, or maybe Eddie stops talking, he doesn't know. He misses him. It's been a long, trying, three weeks of trying not to encroach, and then finding her there anyway. The ebb and flow of his confidence and composure in the face of her presence exhausts him. The wax and wane of his want and willpower to keep them close or hold them far rubs him raw every single time.

Warms hands cradle his face, dragging back awareness with it. He blinks up at Eddie's too close face, mesmerized. He really is beautiful. There's an alarming, familiar sort of pressure building just behind the bridge of his nose. He struggles to keep it contained, eyes dropping away and blinking furiously.

"Buck, what's wrong? Why are you drinking?"

The concern, readily apparent in that too gentle tone, is his undoing. He surges forward, startling Eddie into pulling back and upright. He wraps arms around him and buries his face into that hard body.

"Buck, what--?"

"I love you." The words are muffled, lost.

“Buck…?”

For a moment, the world stops. Eddie remains still, arms hovering over him, but never quite settling around him.

For a moment, everything is the same and yet now nothing is.

Something tears inside, and Buck pulls away, arms dropping like a puppet without strings.

"Go home, Eddie." _Stay_. "I'll be fine. I'm just…going through some stuff." _Don't ever leave me._

But they don't _belong_ to him, and his best friend deserves to be happy with whomever he chooses, _when_ he chooses.

He stumbles to his feet, but calloused fingers wrap around his wrist before he can walk away.

"I thought we were past this." Eddie's voice is low with accusation.

The hurt and outrage on his face, when Buck gathers the courage to look, strikes directly at the tattered, jagged pieces of his heart.

"When you were _going through some stuff_ last time, you didn't come to me, and I almost lost you."

Eddie gives his wrist a shake, fingers digging in so tightly he knows there will be bruises tomorrow.

"When I was _going through some stuff_ last time, and I didn't come to you, I almost lost _everything_."

Eddie tugs him around, catches him by his other wrist when he almost falls, and peers mercilessly into his eyes.

He feels suddenly, startlingly, _staggeringly_ sober.

There was never escaping this, Buck realizes. Never in any world would Eddie just _allow_ him to walk away without a fight. Not after everything they’ve been through. The determined outline of the man before him blurs, and warmth spills down his cheeks.

"So don't tell me, _don't tell me_ you're _just going through some stuff_. _Don't_ walk away from me. Don't _do this_ to yourself. To me or to Chris."

"Are you and Ana dating yet?"

Eddie looks as startled by the question as Buck feels asking it. "What? What does that have to do with anything?" For the first time since he got here though, he looks hesitant. For the first time, he looks away.

Buck looks down, twisting a wrist, but Eddie refuses to let go. "Ana. Don't you like her? You were so smitten."

"Seriously, what are you even on? Smitten?" A pause. "Are you…do _you_ like Ana? Is this what this is all about?"

His head shoots back up and he stares incredulously. "What? No!"

"Then what? Come on, Buck. I'm your best friend. I want to help."

"The thing is, you…you're super protective of Chris, and you don't just let anybody in, and Eddie, you just met this woman and here she is, always in your home, it seems like. Which--it's fine," he adds hurriedly, "I just--if that's not a sign, I don't--."

There's a beat of silence.

"But…it's different. She already knows Christopher, and I--." Eddie lets go, and the world suddenly seems colder. "Look, maybe--maybe I am. I don't know. She's…really nice, and I--." He stops, rubbing a hand on his neck. "I maybe thought about it. But then you--"

The truth isn't anything he doesn’t already know, but it stings like disinfectant on wounds torn wide open.

"You should do what makes you happy," he says softly, "and not worry about me."

Buck startles when Eddie grabs his shoulders. "You…you're important to me, and you're Christopher's favorite person in the whole world! And maybe I don't know what's going on with you or what I'm doing, I just know I don't want to lose you. So please stop pulling away. _Please_."

He stares into those ever familiar eyes, wide and wet and pleading.

Slowly, Buck lifts his arms and folds Eddie into a hug.

"Okay, Eddie," he says quietly.

*****

It ends like this.

A week and a day of simultaneously being the best wing man and the worst martyr and he’s--he might be done.

A week and a day of gently urging the man he loves to explore his attraction to a woman he might actually hate and it’s done.

A week and a day of smiling like he means to be there always while waiting for his arms to be cut off, and he’s finally, _finally_ done.

"I love you."

Buck freezes, blinking down at suddenly shaking hands. He doesn't turn around, because it couldn't possibly be Eddie saying these words to him, because Eddie was out on his first official date with Ana. It couldn't possibly be Eddie saying it and meaning it because--

"And I'm so sorry."

Tears well as arms wrap around him and spill over as a warm body clings to him.

"I'm an idiot and I'm entirely selfish and I'm _so_ sorry," he repeats into the nape of Buck's neck, tightening his hold until it's all Buck can do to breathe. "All I could think about while I was out with her was that look on your face.

I know you, Buck, and I know when you're hurting. And for you to stand there smiling--." His voice breaks. "I am so sorry.

All I thought about was how I was losing you, but I never stopped to consider that it was me-- _us_ \--that you were afraid of losing."

Buck shakes his head, but can't quite manage to lift it--still can't quite convince himself that this is real. "If she makes you happy--."

Eddie's arms slide away, and with it, the tiny pieces of hope he hadn't known were left inside him. He's not expecting to be spun around, Eddie's hands like brands on his shoulders and angry brown eyes fixed relentlessly on him.

"Listen. Are you listening, Evan Buckley? _I love you_. I do. _You_ make me happy. You make _both of us_ happy. And I'm so sorry it took hurting you to see it."

For a moment the world stops and nothing is the same.

And maybe he still doesn't really know where this will end, but he can't fold into those arms quick enough, and he definitely never wants to let go.


End file.
